Dedicated to The Memory of
William Rollins
Volume 1
By
John M. DeBrular
Suzanne Hadley
Marla James
Last Edited August 1,
2005
Scope of This Report
When we started this endeavor it was just to record the history of the
Greenwood School. But then after we discovered the existence of several
copies of “The Greenwood School News” we realized that the school was the
heart of the community. You could not separate the one from the other.
The scope of this report was increased to include area from Duckworth
Crossing to Cabin Run and Toll Gate to Greenwood Hill. This covers an area
of approximately three miles square.
We intend to report the names and interesting events all of businesses,
families and organizations that resided or had activity in this area during
the time period of the beginning of Greenwood until the 1980’s era. We
solicit the participation of all who care to preserve memories of the past.
John M. DeBrular
Suzanne Hadley
Marla James
The Old Homestead
John S. Hall
The Blind Poet
We gather ‘round the old homestead,
Amid the scenes we used to know,
The years, as moments, quickly sped,
Are numbered with the long ago.
So far, and yet how near it seems,
Across the span of years that lie
Twixt childhoods hopes and old folks dreams
Just over there, the sweet gone by.
We’re all, all here; ‘tis hallowed ground;
Here blends the present with the past
And recollections, clustering round
Like twining tenderils hold us fast
And memories, like the cottage vine,
That thatched the porch in living green,
Around our lives do still entwine,
And sweet enchantments guard the scene.
The house, the yard, the deep round well.
With quaking windlass quaint and queer,
To us the same old stories tell-
Stories that bring the past so near.
Here too, the sweet, old fashioned flowers
Are still as fresh as Summers morn,
Their petals bathed in dewey showers,
As if to beauty newly born.
The song of bird, the hum of bee,
The croak of frog in yonder stream,
The soft wind sighing o’er the lea
Are like some remembered dream.
From which we wake, but all too soon,
To busy life that seems less real,
There comes to life no sweeter boon,
Than feel the joys we used to feel.
The softly fading twilight hours
Bring once familiar things to view,
And memory wakes the withered flowers
To beauty and life anew
And friends departed gather round
To worship at memory’s shrine,
Till all are here on hallowed ground
Their presence makes life seem divine.
‘Tis sweet to sit at eventide,
And pensive watch the fading light
In golden silence softly glide
From weary day to restful night.
And in the quiet evening hour,
When silence soothes the world to sleep,
To yield to some mysterios power,
And gently in with childhood creep.
John S. Hall, the blind poet, was a resident of Ritchie County
THE BLUE AND THE GRAY
Francis M. Finch (1827 - 1907)
By the flow of the inland river,
Whence the fleets of iron have fled,
Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,
Asleep are the ranks of the dead;
Under the sod and the dew;
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the one, the Blue;
Under the other, the Gray.
These, in the robings of glory,
Those, in the gloom of defeat,
All, with the battle blood gory,
In the dusk of eternity meet,
Under the sod and the dew;
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the one, the Blue;
Under the other, the Gray.
From the silence of sorrowful hours,
The desolate mourners go,
Lovingly laden with flowers,
Alike for the friend and the foe;
Under the sod and the dew;
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the roses, the Blue;
Under the willow, the Gray. |
So with an equal splendor,
The morning sun-rays fall,
With a touch impartially tender,
On the blossoms blooming for all;
Under the sod and the dew;
Waiting the judgment day;
‘Broidered with gold, the Blue;
Mellowed with gold, the Gray.
So when the summer calleth,
On forest and field of grain,
With an equal murmur falleth,
The cooling drip of the rain;
Under the sod and the dew;
Waiting the judgment day;
Wet with the rain, the Blue;
Wet with the rain, the Gray.
Sadly, but with not upbraiding,
The generous deed was done;
In the storm of the years that are fading,
No braver battle was won;
Under the sod and the dew;
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the blossoms, the Blue;
Under the garlands, the Gray.
No more shall the war-cry server,
Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever,
When they laurel the graves of our dead,
Under the sod and the dew;
Waiting the judgment day;
Love and tears for the Blue;
Tears and love for the Gray.
No piece of historical writing of this time period should be put to print
without honoring those who served with the Blue or the Gray and especially
those who made the ultimate sacrifice.
Credits
The following people and organizations have provided information,
photographs and support that have made this effort possible. There are a
certain few to who I want to express my most sincere thanks and
appreciation. To Hobart Ellifritt for his special friendship and remembrance
of days gone by and to Joe Ellifritt for the rare photos of the Greenwood of
our past. Much of the information was transcribed by Barr Wilson from
numerous diaries and without his help this research would be much more
difficult. There is no doubt that if Barr Wilson was around today this book
would contain much more information than it now does. Barr Wilson is the
unseen editor and as long as history is a quest for the curious few his
spirit will always be with us in deeds and words. This list will be expanded
as more information is discovered.
Hobart Ellifritt Franklin Pierce Dotson
Emalene Ellifritt Nancy Clark Dotson
Duane Ellifritt Burdett S. Warden, Jr.
Wally Ellifritt Barbara Borror Warden.
Shirley Garner Townsend Bill Calhoun
Maude Ferrebee Weaver John King
Maxine Zinn James M. Dotson
Paul & Donna Williams Shelva Jean Zinn
Betty “Dotson” Renick Suzanne Hadley
Lloyd “Buck” Talkington John M. DeBrular
Lorainne Waldo Nutter Pastor, M.F. Hollingsworth
Mary Belle Doll Reverend, Robert B. Florian
Nancy L. Collins Joe Ellifritt
Shirley Britton Roger “Doc” Dotson
Carlton Boyce Sharon Hill
Betty Eckles Janice Ellifritt
Barr Wilson Perkins Oil & Gas Company
Marla James
Sources
The diary of William Clark
The diary of Frank and Nan Dotson
The “Greenwood School News”
The History of Toll Gate by Barr Wilson
A book of poems by Ignatius Brennan
An article by Mildred Dotson
The West Virginia State Gazetteer
The History of the Greenwood United Methodist Church
Hobart Hutzel Ellifritt
The information in this writing is about the people of the Greenwood
community who have gone on to a greater reward. They have spent their time
on this earth, suffered hardships, tragedies and have earned time in a
better place. This memorial to Hobart Hutzel Ellifritt says it much better
than I could ever hope to. As you reflect on your personal situation and the
friends who are no longer with us, think about the good times and the events
which made up their lives and remember the situations where they may have
had an effect on your life and the community we called Greenwood.
Miss Me – But Let Me Go
When I come to the end of the road.
And the sun has set for me
I want no rites in a gloom filled room
Why cry for a soul set free
Miss me a little but not too long
And not with your head bowed low
Remember the love we once shared
Miss Me – But Let Me Go
For this is a journey that we all must take
And each must go alone
It’s all a part of the Master’s plan
A step on the road to home
When you are lonely and sick of heart
Go to the friends we know
And bury your sorrow in doing good deeds
Miss Me – But Let Me Go
>>>> On to
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